


A Traditional Marriage

by Madam_O



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Forced Marriage, Unseelie Court
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:44:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3294230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_O/pseuds/Madam_O
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a result of his mother's meddling, the Bog King needs a fairy princess for a bride, and in a hurry. Dawn is the only princess that fits the bill according to the laws of tradition. Marianne has a few things to say about that, however.</p><p>An AU fic. Currently T-rated, but violence and adult situations will raise that rating a bit later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Mess With Mama

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on a headcanon I came up with a little while ago, which you can read here if you so choose: 
> 
> http://madam-o.tumblr.com/post/109716073124/spoilery-hedcannonz-the-primroses-that-border-the
> 
> It's a pretty simple premise, but it feels like a nice way to explore the characters. Bog and Marianne won't meet until at least chapter 3 or 4, so hang in there. :)

It was all his own fault, really.

It started one day when the Bog King’s mother had been especially hard on him, beginning in the morning over breakfast. She was never one to mince words, but it took her a whole five seconds to get to the point this time, which he marveled at as an incredible display of restraint on her part.

“Gee, ya know what this place could use?” she said, destroying the peace and quiet of the breakfast table.

“What?” he grumbled, not really listening. He was used to being on auto-pilot with her and continued to look down into his bowl and shovel food into his mouth.

“Some more light, I think. It’s so dark and musty in here. We should open up some windows.”

“We don’t have any more windows to open, Mother,” he scoffed. “We live in a bloody log.”

“Then make some more windows,” she said, the old, familiar edge entering her voice. “Punch a few holes through the walls. It’s just so dank and depressing in here. It’s not good for you.”

He started to shovel faster, wanting this meal to be over as quickly as possible.  _Every day_ , he thought.  _Every damn day, she does this_.

He let out a laugh. “This place is so old and decrepit, if I did so much as order a minion to hurl an especially large pebble across the room, the entire palace would come crashing down on our heads.”

“Good! Then we should move!” she retorted. “Get some place more modern with an open floor plan. Tons of windows and extra bathrooms, with lots of room for…”

“ _Mother_ …” he growled warningly.

“…A FAMILY,” she finished.

“I’m finished,” he said, shoving his bowl across the table, still half full. He stood up to leave. She followed.

“Even if that family is only three,” she said encouragingly. “Or two. I won’t live forever, ya know.”

“Thank gods for that,” he muttered bitterly. He trudged toward the throne room, clacking his staff on the floor irritably with every step.

“I mean, it’d be nice to have some grandchildren,” she continued, ignoring him. “But I’ve learned to lower my expectations.”

He groaned and slumped into his throne. He pressed his fingers to his forehead for the first (but not last) time this day and said, “I have to work now, Mother. Please go find something else to do.”

“Work? What work?” she said with a snort. “You mean sitting alone in the shadows all day and ruining your back with bad posture? Occasionally barking abuse at anyone who tries to talk to you? I have news for you, son. Your job sucks.”

“And if I don’t sit here every single day,” he said, his voice rising, “being threatening and dark and angry, making sure that the idiots here and on the other side don’t violate our laws or generally cock things up, then you and me and the whole Dark Forest will fall into ruin.”

“No wonder your posture’s terrible, what with the whole world on your shoulders,” she sighed. “Not to mention your ego,” she added tartly.

“Do you want the giggling imbeciles of the Fairy Kingdom to push across our borders? Should I just let them start coming and going as they please and pick all the primroses, making the potion and spreading it around until chaos reigns and I lose all control of my kingdom? They’d probably turn us into a theme park or something.”

“I know what you need!” she said, changing tack suddenly. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. The same damn thing. Every. Single. Day.

“You need to get out. Meet some people. I have just the person in mind.” She padded across the room excitedly.

“Don’t bring any girls in here, Mom. I don’t want to meet any more of your terrible hook-ups.”

“What, sweetie? I can’t hear you,” she said, making hastily for the door. “I’ll be back soon. While I’m gone, try to make yourself look a little more, um…oh, just smile when we come in, all right?”

“MOM. NO MORE GIRLS!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the great hall, but is mother was already gone.

Of course, there were more girls. Several, in fact. This was no surprise. There was “Nyrk” at ten, “Joobee” around lunch time, “KZZYZZNK” at three, and a parade of others throughout the day. It went on, and on, and  _on_ , each time his rejection and her insistence becoming more and more intense. Finally around midnight he had his guards herd out a group of at least a dozen excited, eligible females that she’d brought to the throne room.

“Mother, come here,” he ordered, his voice low and menacing. He was usually as respectful as he could manage with her, but he’d had enough, and this time she’d listen. It was clear she didn’t like his tone, but she just shrugged and approached him nonchalantly.

“I-” she began.

“Just shut it for once, will you?” he snapped. Astoundingly, she did. She looked quite stunned, really. He smiled with satisfaction and continued. “I am king of this forest, and I am giving you a decree. You will not bring even one more female in my presence. No potential dates, no would-be girlfriends, no booty-call girls, no friends-with-benefits candidates, and definitely no prospective wives.”

“It’s not just about you, ya know,” she interrupted. “Even here in the Dark Forest, we used to value the importance of-”

“Don’t say it,” he cut her off. “I want nothing to do with…” he winced. “With the l-word.”

“What l-word? Oh, you mean LOVE?” she said loudly. He cringed and had to cover his ears each time she said the word. “Ya know, I’m not the only one who LOVES everything to do with LOVE. Even your father used to just LOVE LOVE. How about you?” she asked one of the little two little toadies who hung around the throne. “Doncha just LOVE to talk about LOVE? Tell me your thoughts on LOVE.”

“Ummmm, honestly I don’t know,” Thang said, surprised to be asked his opinion on anything. “The only thing I know about it is that apparently it can get kind of, uh, sticky?”

“Only if you’re doin’ it right,” she said and gave him a wink. Thang just looked confused, and vaguely disgusted.

“Mother, I know you miss Father and you’re lonely and have nothing better to do than meddle in my l-” He stopped himself from saying it. “My life. But know this. I refuse to ever - to EVER - cave in to your relentless, incessant, soul-crushing pressure. Get the moss out of your ears. I vow that I will have nothing to do with that  _word_  in any possible way. AND I WILL ABSOLUTELY NEVER MARRY.” He jabbed a pointed finger at her as he said this, looking into her eyes very seriously. She was quiet for a moment.

“Fine. You want to play it that way, we’ll play it that way,” she said, turned her heel, and stalked off.

“Fine,” he said. When she was gone, he sighed exhaustedly and decided to call it an early night.

It was several blissfully quiet days before she dropped the bomb on him. Stuff came waddling into the room one evening, looking somewhat distressed. “Message for you, sire,” she said as she breathlessly reached him.

“Message?” he said, confused. He never got messages. Who would message him? “From who, the fairies? What the devil would they want, other than a severe beating?”

“Um, no, sire. It’s not from the fairies,” she said, looking very nervous. She thrust the rolled parchment at Thang, and then shoved him toward the steps to the throne. “You give it to him,” she said.

“Why me?” Thang whined.

“Because you’re more important,” she lied.

“I am?” he said in awe.

“JUST HAND IT HERE!” he growled at them, and Thang scampered up the steps in a panic, then cowered and held out the scroll in a trembling hand. Bog snatched it from him and sent him bouncing down the steps again with a knock from his staff.

He looked at the seal. His eyes widened. It was from the fairies, but not  _those_  fairies. It was from the freaking Faerie fairies. Quickly he broke the seal and pulled open the scroll. His eyes darted over the document momentarily and then his expression turned murderous.

“MOTHER!” he thundered. “MOTHER! GET YOUR MEDDLING ARSE IN HERE!”

The entire castle cringed in terror as he continued to rant until she finally entered.

“MOTHER, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” he shouted, shoving the end of his staff in her face.

“Oh, nothin’,” she said with a smug grin. “I just went over your head, is all.”


	2. On His Majesty's Request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His mother's meddling sticks Bog in hot water with some very important people. He breaks the bad new to the Fairy King, who doesn't take it well.

 

> _To His Majesty The Bog King, From His Illustrious Royal Majesty The High King Of The Unseelie Court,_

started the letter, which was written on vellum made from some unknown animal skin in a script that was florid, antiquated, and, frankly, hard to read.  _Putting me in my place before he’s even begun_ , Bog thought grimly. There was also an irritating amount of unnecessary capitalization. He read on.

 

> _We have followed News of Your Reign with some minor Interest over the Years, Bog King. While We were puzzled and somewhat amused to hear of Your Ban on the Potion of the Sugar Plums many Years ago, We assumed that this rash Decision was the Act of a broken-hearted and inexperienced young Ruler and that soon You would come to your Senses. It was only when Our good Friend, Your Royal Mother, sent Us a recent Missive retelling Your Pronouncement of Refusal to Marry at any Point in the Future that We saw the Truth of It. We must assume that this aberrant Behavior is a Result of the Dilution of the Royal Blood, as It has not been renewed in some Time._
> 
> _Your Kingdom is Yours to rule, of course, Bog King, but the important Role of that Potion in your Kingdom’s Affairs cannot escape You. The Traditions created Ages ago by Your Ancestors have kept the Peace for Centuries, and without Them Your Lands would fall into Chaos. While some Time ago We may have quitted the Realm of Men in which Your charming Province resides, be assured that We still hold vested Interests there. When the Age of Men comes to an End, which will undoubtedly be soon, We must be sure of Our Foothold in that Realm. We cannot give Leeway for the Light to obtain any Advantage there, as We are sure You agree._
> 
> _Therefore, Bog King, You will respect Tradition and take a Bride from the Fairy Kingdom. We are informed that the Fairy King has two Daughters, and, as has been the occasional Habit of the Past, You will take the Youngest as Your Queen. Hence the Blood will be renewed, You and Your Heirs will be assured of Your Place, and We will be assured of Ours. An Emissary will come to retrieve the definitive Proof of Your Marriage, which You will provide by the end of the next Bloodworm Moon._
> 
> _We offer Our Compliments on Your impending Nuptials._

Bog rubbed his temples as he finished reading it for the hundredth time. He looked again at the bit written at the bottom of the page.

 

> _P.S. Let Us relieve any Doubts You may have in this Affair. Even though You are of mostly Goblin Stock, We are sure You will soon discover that Fairy Maids are good for a great deal more than eating. Take Pleasure in this Task, O Bog King. You may thank Us later._

“Rotten, old pervert,” he snarled. “Racist bastard.”

Since when was his mother a “good friend” of the High King? He doubted they’d ever said more than two words to each other, and that many years ago when he was young. And those little digs about his lineage and the not-so-subtle threat behind the words “assured of Your Place”, as if it would be nothing to have him replaced if he didn’t comply. He wanted to roll the parchment back up again and go shove it up the High King’s Illustrious Arse.

Wait, when was the end of the next Bloodworm Moon?

He had to go through the dusty tomes in his father’s library for some time until he finally found a chart. The Bloodworm Moon would be less than three months from now. He glanced at one of the ancient pieces of artwork lying among his father’s artifacts, a sketch by some old artist of fairy maids dancing in a row. Long, wavy hair, diaphanous gowns, sweet, gentle faces, delicate wings. They weren’t like that anymore. Not here, anyway. These days the fairy girls preferred sportier, shorter dresses and hairstyles. But they were still so very…pretty and sweet. Ugh.

Three months. Three months until he was  _doomed_. He cursed and called out angrily for a messenger.

 

* * *

 

 

Bog arrived with a small escort of large goblins near the neutral space he had requested for the meeting. It was his opinion that it was always better to have a small escort of something large rather than a large escort of something small. It made one look more fearless but better-equipped. And of course one should arrive late in order to keep the other party waiting, just so they understood the balance of power. That went without saying.

Of course, the Fairy King had no concept of any of this and was pacing impatiently amongst his coterie of servants and several guards in rather shiny, yet flimsy-looking armor. Peeking from behind the roots of the large willow tree on the border of their respective territories, Bog smirked at the sight of the rotund monarch muttering nervously to himself and wringing his hands. Only in the bloody Fairy Kingdom would a guy like that be able to hold on to power. Suddenly Bog flew out of the shadows, his goblins moving quickly to catch up to him, and the King made a surprised, little sound.

“Ah! Oh, uh, there you are, Bog,” he said, looking up at Bog as he swooped in, hovered above the king for a moment, and made a slow, deliberate landing as he glowered down intimidatingly on him.

“Greetings, Fairy King,” Bog coldly replied. “You’re looking fit.” He raised an eyebrow as he examined the large belly hidden under the Fairy King’s expansive armor. “And it’s ‘Bog King’”.

“Oh, come now,” the Fairy King said with a nervous laugh. “You and I have always had a friendly working relationship. We don’t rely on formalities, you and I. It has been a while since we’ve spoken, I’ll grant you, though. So! How are…things? What’s this big, important matter you just had to meet me in secret about so quickly?”

The man was pathetic at hiding his fear. Bog loomed over him, the pointy end of his nose nearly touching the sweat on the Fairy King’s forehead. “You have a funny understanding of the word ‘secret’, your majesty,” Bog said. “Let’s walk and speak privately, away from your little entourage here.” He looked disapprovingly at the king’s companions.

The Fairy King didn’t look pleased by that idea at all. “Uh, well, we should at least be accompanied by our guards, don’t you think?” he said. “As long as you want to follow protocol.”

“Of course,” Bog said with an unpleasant smile. “Feel free to bring some protection, if it makes you feel better.”

“Roland, come along with us, won’t you?” the king said to the most impressive-looking soldier in his group. There was not one part on this guy’s body that was not polished to a brilliant shine until it was physically painful to look at him. Roland had a confident grin plastered on his face, but Bog saw his expression falter for a second when he heard his king’s request. He gestured to three of his fellow guards and they all flew to the king’s side.

“Shall we?” Bog said, flying ahead alone, making it clear that he needed no companions.

When they were far enough away, Bog said to the king, “I have a problem. And when I have a problem, that means you have a problem.”

“Oh, dear. Well, of course I’ll help you in any way I can,” the Fairy King said sympathetically, glossing over the implicit threat in Bog’s statement. “Maintaining friendly relations with the Dark Forest has always been my priority.”

“Good,” Bog said. “Then you won’t give me any trouble when I tell you what I need.”

“I’ll happily grant any request that I can, Bog King,” the king said and waited expectantly.

Bog hesitated. He didn’t want to reveal everything, but he knew he had to explain the situation at least a little bit or the Fairy King wouldn’t comply nearly as easily as he said he would. “As you know, I’ve banned the use of the primrose potion for many years now,” Bog began. “The Sugar Plum Fairy is safely under lock and key, no longer able to wreak havoc on the populace. There is no love in the Dark Forest now, nor will there ever be as long as I am king. However…” he paused.

“However?”

“However, I have received a directive from the Unseelie Court telling me that I must marry and provide an heir to the throne,” Bog finished quickly.

“Oh! Well, that’ll be nice,” the Fairy King said, not really getting it. “Will you want to have a formal ceremony with both kingdoms present?”

“They insist that I renew the Blood,” Bog stated bluntly with an unhappy twitch of his wings. The king looked at Bog blankly, and then laughed.

“What? You can’t be serious. Why, that hasn’t been done for hundreds of years!”

“Yes, and that’s why they say it’s high time for it to happen again.” Bog said. “There’s too much goblin in me, apparently.”

The king tried to reason with him. “But, Bog, my eldest, Marianne, is marrying Roland here.” He gestured to the polished fairy. “And Dawn is still my little girl. She isn’t ready for marriage.”

“It has to be the youngest. You know the tradition.”

“Oh, come on, Bog. That tradition is an old-fashioned, barbaric practice. We don’t need that kind of thing to keep the peace anymore.”

“You know very well it’s not about that,” Bog said severely. “It’s about the Dark maintaining a royal fairy bloodline in this realm so that whenever the human apocalypse eventually happens, they can keep up with the competition from the Light.”

The king stopped walking. “My poor Dawnie…” he said, his face turning pale. “She’s such a happy, innocent, little thing. She’d shrivel up and die in the Dark Forest.”

“Oh, I assure you, this gives me no more pleasure than you,” Bog said. “But I require a fairy princess, and you have exactly one that fits the bill. You’ll have to make her ready for the marriage soon. I can’t put it off for more than a month, perhaps.”

“I can’t do it! I won’t!” the king shouted, and looked defiantly in Bog’s eyes for the first time.

“Oh, really?” Bog said, narrowing his eyes down on the king. “Well, if you don’t like it, I suppose I could just go and grab her now. Make it easier on everyone.”

“I’d stop you!”

“Would you? Do you want really to go against me, as well as the Unseelie Court?”

“No, but…”

“Then you could make an appeal to the Seelie Court, I suppose,” Bog said thoughtfully. “We could have a nice little war that annihilates both our kingdoms.”

“I don’t legally have a leg to stand on, and you know it!” the upset king bellowed. “But surely you can think of something. Please, Bog…Bog King. Have mercy on my daughter.”

“Sorry. I’m fresh out,” Bog said. Mercy on his daughter, indeed. What about mercy for poor Bog, who’d have to put up with his sickeningly sweet offspring?

Before the king could pathetically grovel any more, Bog added, “I’ll see you again in a month’s time. Have her ready.” He flew back to the waiting group of fairies and goblins. “LET’S GO!” he shouted at his troops and took off for the Dark Forest, without so much as a farewell for the king or his people.


	3. A Fairy Tale Come True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truths are told, plans are made.

There was something clearly wrong. Marianne’s dad was being extra patronizing today. He was fawning all over Dawn, holding her hand a lot and patting it while he told her for the millionth time how wonderful and beautiful she was. He encouraged Marianne to tell her sister how lovely she looked and commented on how grown they both were and what a lucky father he was to have them and it just went on and on until Marianne wanted to tear her hair out and scream.

 

“So, Dad, what’s up?” she said, cutting through the treacle. “I’m in the middle of planning and I’m kinda busy, so can you please just tell us what you wanted to talk about?”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie. Of course you’re busy!” he said brightly. “How are the wedding plans coming along, by the way? We’re all so excited, aren’t we, Dawn? Weddings are so… so nice.”

 

Dawn nodded and patted her father’s hand. She shot Marianne a look that said  _Don’t be mean_. She had a lot more patience than Marianne did when their dad was being super-avoidy.

 

“Well I’ve got a gazillion flowers to arrange, not to mention the disasters also known as the bridesmaids’ dresses, and then I still need to find the right cake and table centerpieces and AUGH can we just not talk about this right now?”

 

“I told you I’d help,” Dawn said, smirking.

 

“Yeah, and your help would consist of ‘make everything pink and chocolate’,” Marianne said and rolled her eyes.

 

“Shows what you know. I’d suggest blue and strawberry,” Dawn shot back. “And stop worrying about the flowers. I told you, I’m gonna do the flowers. You really don’t have an eye for that kind of thing. I wish you’d stop trying to do everything yourself and trust me a little.”

 

“Well if you weren’t constantly flitting off to meet with Darren or Craig or whoever the flavor of the moment is, I might.”

 

“Whatever. If you had your way we’d skip the wedding arrangements altogether and you’d go straight to the honeymoon. Cause you’re so in looooove.”

 

Marianne couldn’t prevent an embarrassingly girlish sigh from escaping her as she thought of her fiance. “Yeah, well who can blame me? Roland is the most amazing, brave, smart, kind, honest…”

 

“Not to mention gorgeous.”

 

“And that, too. Obviously,” Marianne said, gushing shamelessly, but then her expression changed back to serious and she turned to her father. “Anyway, nice try, Dad, but you’re not changing the subject. What’s up?”

 

Their father looked sheepish and let out a weak laugh. He looked on the verge of letting something out, but then he turned to Dawn, took her hand again and said, “Say, do you recall that old story about the first Sugar Plum Fairy I used to tell you when you were just a tiny little thing?” Marianne threw her hands up in defeat.

 

“Um. Yeah?” Dawn said, a bit thrown off by the non-sequitur. “You mean the story that, like, our whole society is based off of? Yeah, I think I still know that one.” She shared a funny look with Marianne, and then suddenly got mentally side-tracked with an amusing thought. “Oh my gods, Marianne, do you remember how Josh Loganberry and Mitch Thistledown used to pick on me about that story? They even made goblin masks and paraded around singing about how I was gonna marry the Bog King!”

 

“Oh, yeah, I remember that,” Marianne said with a glint in her eye. “And I’ll tell you right now, Josh and Mitch remember it, too, especially the black eyes and purple nurples I gave them for it. Those jerks. You were only five. You cried so hard, and you had trouble sleeping for weeks until I could convince you that the Bog King wasn’t actually going to come and snatch you in the night.”

 

The Fairy King looked very unhappy. “I didn’t know about any of that. I thought you enjoyed that story. It’s supposed to be a happy tale about the power of peace and love overcoming war and hate.”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Dawn said with a smirk. “I mean, I get it: the war between goblins and fairies being avoided by the first Sugar Plum Fairy making the fairy prince and the Goblin Queen fall in love with the potion, it’s cute and all. But it was kinda scary for me when I was little, obviously.”

 

“But you used to tell me that you thought it was so romantic, Dawn!” he protested.

 

“Mostly she was just being nice,” Marianne said. “Maybe it was considered romantic back in your day, Dad. But the idea of being forced to fall in love with a nasty-ass goblin and marry him, just so that we can avoid border skirmishes a little bit longer? Not my idea of romance.”

 

“Kinda have to agree,” Dawn said and nodded.

 

“Well, it’s an important part of our history,” their dad said, looking hurt. “I’m sorry it upset you, Dawn, but the truth is that it’s more than just some legend. It’s been a while, but royal marriages between fairies and goblins actually used to happen from time to time.”

 

“Yeah, but not in, like, forever,” Dawn laughed.

 

Marianne was starting to get an inkling that this conversation was going to a weird, bad place. “Okay, way to derail the conversation again, Dad. What does this have to do with anything?”

 

“The Bog King is only the Bog King because he has royal fairy blood in him,” the king said, not directly answering. “He derives his power from it. That’s why when a Bog King marries a fairy princess every few generations, it’s called ‘renewing the Blood’. Goblins may hate fairies as a general rule, but even they respect the royal line of fairies as their superiors. If they didn’t, the High King of the Unseelie Court would come down on them.” Marianne’s skin was starting to turn cold as he spoke.

 

“But when the Bog King marries a fairy, it’s one of us, and we’re Light-sided fairies,” Dawn said, confused.

 

“All fairies are originally from the same line, Dawn,” her father said, sighing at her ignorance. “Before the Seelie and Unseelie split, we were all the same people. The Unseelie don’t care about what kind of fairy marries a Bog King, as long as it’s a royal one and her alignment is changed to Dark.”

 

“Okay. And why do they care at all?” Dawn asked.

 

“Because, sweetie, as long as the Bog King has a little Dark fairy prince in him, they have certain rights to rule here.” The king said, and then waved his hand dismissively. “It’s complicated, Faerie Realm politics stuff, and not really worth getting into.”

 

“Seelie, Unseelie, whatever. It doesn’t have anything to do with us,” Marianne said. She wasn’t really letting herself see what her father was saying, not yet, but her stomach was starting to tense and turn. “They live in the stupid, flippin’ Faerie Realm, and we live here, in the real world. None of us have seen any of them in almost literally forever. What should we care about them?”

 

“There’s a lot more fairies there than there are here, Marianne,” the king said glumly. “And they love to go to war over which side gets more territory all the time. They’re old and patient, and they’re playing the long game. They’re all waiting for this big, predicted end-of-all-mankind thing to happen some day. Once that happens, they’ll take over this realm again, so they need to make sure they have all their chess pieces set up in the right places.”

 

“So what? We never see them  _or_  humans. We do our own thing. It has nothing to do with us,” Marianne stubbornly insisted.

 

“I wish that were true,” her father said sadly. “But, in any case,  _they_  are not our immediate concern.”

 

“Wait. What’s going on?” Dawn said, looking between her sister and her father in confusion. “What are you guys talking about, really?”

 

“Dawn, my precious girl,” her father said as he held her hand between both of his, “The Bog King needs to marry a fairy princess, even though it’s been ages since the last time it happened and we all think we’re too modern for it. His superiors on the other side have ordered it.”

 

“NO,” was all Marianne said in response to that.

 

“What? This is a joke, right?” Dawn said, incredulous.

 

“Absolutely not, Dad,” Marianne said fiercely. “You go tell that twisted freak ‘no’, that’s all.”

 

“I’m so sorry, girls. It’s out of my hands,” he said, his eyes starting to glisten.

 

Marianne scowled at him and said, “You just send him a note saying, ‘Sorry, asshole, but I’m not giving you my daughter so, oh well, I guess you’re screwed’. It’s that simple.”

 

“You’re both totally pranking me,” Dawn said, smiling. “Oh my gods. You guys are jerks.”

 

The king put his head down and hid his face beneath his hand so they wouldn’t see him crying. “How I wish it was simple, Marianne. But it’s out of all our hands,” he said through heavy breaths. “It’s this, or war with the Dark Forest, and we’d be in the wrong since refusing the match would be going against the pact.” The two sisters stared wide-eyed at their weeping father. They looked at each other, both full of fear as they realized the seriousness of the situation. For several long moments, they said nothing.

 

“Well, this just…totally sucks!” Marianne shouted, finally. “Now I have to cancel all my plans! I’ll never get my deposit back on the dress.” She made a show of looking only mildly irritated, but her voice was trembling. “And I’ll have to break the news to poor Roland. He’s going to be so disappointed.”

 

“What are you talking about?” her father asked.

 

“Well, now I’ll have to marry the Bog King instead! And I’m sure he won’t be into the stuff I’ve picked out already,” she grumbled and flipped her bangs in annoyance. She smiled bravely at them both, but her eyes were shining.

 

“Marianne,” Dawn said in awe.

 

“Oh, Marianne. I’m sorry, but you can’t,” the king said, becoming more distraught by the second. “The heir to the throne never marries the Bog King, so there’s no confusion about who has the right to rule which kingdom.”

 

“So disinherit me and make Dawn the heir,” Marianne said with a casual shrug.  

 

“Sweetheart…” her father began.

 

“I’m not throwing my sister on the windshield and that’s that, Dad,” Marianne said firmly, staring him down. “It’s both our job to keep her safe. My mind is made up. This is what’s happening.”

 

“It won’t be allowed,” her father insisted. “It’s in the articles of the pact. The youngest is always the chosen bride. The Bog King even specified it.”

 

“I don’t care what that cradle-robbing creep said,” Marianne said angrily.

 

“AHEM. Excuse me?” Dawn interjected, sounding affronted. “‘Cradle-robbing’? And it’s your ‘job’ to keep me safe? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not actually a baby. I’m more than enough woman for that stupid, old Bog King.”

 

“Dawn, this isn’t the time to get offended,” Marianne said, exasperated. “This is serious.”

 

“No kidding! And you’re trying to steal all the thunder, as usual!” Dawn said with a laugh. She went to her sister and placed a hand on her arm. “Look, Marianne, your only job is to marry Roland and become queen one day. My job is to marry the Bog King and prevent a war. Not to mention, I’ll get to be a queen, too! Wow, I sure never thought that would happen!” Dawn put a finger to her chin and looked up thoughtfully. “Hmm, ‘Bog Queen’. I think I like the sound of that.”

 

Marianne looked hard at her sister, and realized how much better she was at looking unaffected.

 

“This time I get to protect you. All of you,” Dawn said, with that bright smile of hers. “Don’t look at me like that, you two. You’ll see. He’ll let the Sugar Plum Fairy make the potion and we’ll fall in love with each other. It won’t be hard at all.”

 

Marianne was dumbfounded. She’d never seen Dawn so brave before. The king was struck dumb as well. How grown she’d begun to look.

 

“Ooh, I get to make my own wedding plans now. How exciting!” Dawn said to her stunned family. She fluttered her wings and took off for the door. She paused before she left and said, “Remember, Marianne, you’re not taking my crown from me, so don’t even think about stealing my Boggy!”

 

* * *

 

 

Marianne was sobbing in Roland’s arms, frustrated tears stinging her cheeks. After she’d told him the horrible news, she realized from the look in his eyes that he’d already known all about it. When she interrogated him about this, he admitted that he’d overheard a conversation between her father and the Bog King, but hadn’t wanted to cause her pain by telling her anything before she had to know.

 

Now, between heaving breaths, she said miserably, “Dawn’s going to be handed over like some kind of virgin sacrifice, and Dad won’t do anything to stop it because of stupid, fairy politics.”

 

“Virgin?” Roland murmured skeptically.

 

“Roland! This isn’t funny!” Marianne said, shoving him away. “And just because Dawn’s a flirt, it doesn’t mean she’s a…Oh forget it! You don’t care. Nobody cares but me.” She flew across the room and turned her back to him, hugging herself.

 

“Now, that’s just not true, darlin’,” Roland said in his soft, soothing voice. He came up and embraced her from behind. “I’ll always care about you. And if I care about you, then I gotta care about what you care about, innit that right?” He kissed her softly on the ear. “But there’s nothin’ can be done about this, buttercup.” He caressed her arm as he purred comfortingly into her ear, and she melted. “You’ll see. Your sister’ll be fine. She’ll be made to fall in love with the - ugh - Bog King, and she can come home and visit on holidays. Won’t be much different. You’ll see a little less of her, is all.”

 

“If she really had to do this, I’d go and visit her all the time,” Marianne said resolutely.

 

“Now that I simply will not allow, sugar,” he said, his brow furrowing. He squeezed her tight in his big, strong arms. “No wife of mine’s gonna be runnin’ around the Dark Forest, gettin’ into lord knows what kind of trouble. No sir, you’ll stay safe at home with me. You hear that, now?”

 

Marianne couldn’t stop herself from sighing. She was a sucker for Roland in protective mode. She turned herself around and pressed herself into his chest. He made her so happy, but now all her happiness only made her feel guilty.  She held him close for a long time and thought.

 

“Roland, will you do me a favor?” she suddenly asked.

 

“Of course, darlin’. Anything your little heart desires,” he said.

 

“Will you train with me? With the sword, I mean. I used to be pretty good at it as a kid but I haven’t done it for a while and I’m kinda rusty.”

 

“Now, Marianne,” he said warningly. “You got no reason to be messin’ around with that kind of thing. You stick to your weddin’ arrangements.” He looked at her sternly and then touched her affectionately on the nose and said, “Keep your nose out of trouble, you hear?”

 

Marianne gave him half a smile and said, “I hear.” She tucked her head under his chin and thought,  _but I can’t let this happen. I won’t. Even if I have to stop it alone._


	4. WORST. REHEARSAL. DINNER. EVER.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See chapter title. :P

Marianne looked in the mirror at the dress she’d asked her handmaidens to make for her. Crafted from a dark purple flower (she didn’t know which one because she really was horrible at that kind of thing), it was tea length with the hem a little lower in the back than in the front and had a soft, velvety texture that skimmed over her form. The halter top had a pretty deep neckline but she didn’t have much body to show off, so it was still tasteful and concealed everything. A lot of her back was exposed, but not quite all the way to her butt. Elegant, yet slightly daring. She had to admit it herself, she looked surprisingly regal but also almost like…an offering. She had no idea if the Bog King would see her that way, though.

A month had gone by with Dawn flying from here to there and back again, bouncy and giggling and looking excited. During this time, she chattered with her girlfriends about how awesome it was that she was going to be a queen as they helped her decide on what colors and such would be appropriate for a fairy/goblin wedding. At one point Dawn had come up to her and enthusiastically suggested a double wedding, but Marianne informed her sister that, in the light of the current situation, she’d postponed her own wedding date. Dawn had only said, “Oh pooh!” and flitted off again.  

Everyone was trying to appear happy for her, but the pity behind their smiles was poorly concealed. The only person other than Marianne who hadn’t been trying overly hard to hide their true feelings was Sunny. She often found that he mirrored Dawn’s own hidden emotions, and when she’d gone to see him, he was a sad-looking creature, indeed. “Oh, hey, Marianne,” he dismally said as he scratched aimlessly in the dirt with a bit of twig.

“How’re you holding up, Sunny?” Marianne asked, feeling sorry for him. He had always liked Dawn ever since they were young, not that Dawn noticed (or let on if she noticed).

“Oh, I feel like it’s the end of the world and there’s nothing I can do about it, that’s all,” he said, deflated.

“Aw, now don’t be like that,” she said, trying to comfort him. It felt weird, since usually everyone else was comforting her. “Dawn is going to be okay. You’ve seen how positive she’s being about the whole thing. I know she’d rather stay here with us, but she’s adjusting to the idea of being the Bog Queen really well, don’t you think? She seems downright ecstatic, really.”

“Yeah, she’s so bubbly and excited about it in front of everyone,” he said with a frown. “She does it in front of me, too. That’s what’s really eating at me. She won’t even admit it to me, and she always tells me the truth.”

“Admit what?” Marianne said, a pit growing in her stomach.

“She’s scared. She’s so, so scared, Marianne.” He said. Tears formed in his eyes. “And she won’t even let me try to comfort her.”

“Oh, Sunny,” Marianne said sympathetically. She wiped her own tears away and knelt down to touch him on the back. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you a secret. Dawn isn’t going anywhere.”

“What? How?”

“I’ve got a plan,” she said with a secretive smile. She didn’t have one, not really, more like a loosely constructed series of options. He didn’t need to know that, though.

“What plan?” he asked, sudden hope entering his eyes. “You been cooking something up? Can I help?”

“Let me worry about the details,” she said. “All you need to know is, if things go south, you grab Dawn by the hand and get her as far away from here as you can, okay?”

“I knew you’d come up with something!” he said, rebounding ridiculously fast. “You can count on me! Oh, Marianne, you really are the best sister ever!” He hugged her as if he were speaking for Dawn.

“Thanks, buddy,” she said with a chuckle.

Now, she checked herself in the mirror once more, smoothing the gown with trembling hands. Tonight the Bog King would come for Dawn. She hoped he could be convinced that this whole marriage idea was ridiculous but, if not, there would be plenty of guards around with swords she could grab. 

 _And what will you do then?_  she asked herself. She’d take her sister and go, of course. She’d been practicing on her own with the handmaidens, and it was surprising how quickly her Fencing Club days had come back to her. She could hold them all off long enough to make an escape with Dawn, or at least distract them while Sunny made off with her.  _And just_ w _here do you think that would that leave your dad?_ Ugh. It wasn’t like she wanted to start a war or anything, but Dawn leaving with him was just not an option!  _So what then, genius? What are you gonna do if he won’t be reasoned with?_ She’d fight everyone. She’d fight them with words and, if that failed, with steel. Her father, the Bog King, even Roland, if she had to.

Oh gods, Roland. She hadn’t even thought of him in all this. He hadn’t taken the wedding postponement well, and now this. A horrible wave of guilt rushed over her. She loved him so, so much, but if it came down to it, if there was no other option left, she knew what she had to do: she would throw herself on the mercy on the Bog King and beg him to take her instead.

She knew she wasn’t as pretty as Dawn. She was okay-looking, but it was a struggle to keep herself clean and tidy all the time. It wasn’t like the Dark Forest people were renowned for their hygiene, though. Would a goblin even find a fairy attractive at all?

Maybe the gown would help. Anyway, she’d never met the Bog King or had any idea what he looked like. She seriously doubted he was a prize, himself. Not that he’d care about what she thought of him. All he’d care about was getting the most appealing mate.

A shudder ran through her. She tried to think sexy thoughts, tried to picture herself being seductive and beguiling as she purred into his ear, “Please, Bog King, make me your wife.”

Revulsion coursed through her veins and made her skin prickle. Oh,  _please_ , don’t let it come down to that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bog was in a foul, foul mood. In the few hours before they left for the appointed princess pick-up time, his mother had been annoying him as much as she could manage and trying to force him to “look nice” for his new bride. She had shoved several ties and ascots under his chin, all of which he’d ripped to shreds after she’d tied them around his neck. She’d tried making him wear a smart-looking top hat, but he’d just stuffed Thang into it and thrown it out the window. Then she’d come back with some beetle shell cufflinks. He’d pointed out that he didn’t have any cuffs to fasten them to, so she’d found some cuffs to wrap around his wrists and affixed them. It was at that point that he’d boiled over. They weren’t on speaking terms at the moment and all he had on him to dazzle the fairy population with was his staff, which was quite enough, thank you.

For herself, his mother had decided to dress to impress. This meant that she was wearing a gown with some shiny bits of shell sewn into the skirt and a tiara she’d made herself that was garish and kind of lopsided. Two large flowers covered her broken horns. Also, she had smeared berry juice on her eyelids, cheeks, and lips because she’d heard that fairy ladies did that. All it did was make it look like she’d been trying to eat a pie and missed. Currently she was riding in a little swing made of vines that was being carried by dragonflies.

He was angry with her for several reasons, but he didn’t really blame her for this situation…well, not all of it, anyway. She didn’t know the Unseelie like he and his father had, and she couldn’t have known the kind of serious danger her letter had put him in. Either that, or she just really, really hated being told no about anything.

No, what was really hacking him off right now was his stomach. He was not at all happy and deeply resented being forced into this marriage, yes, but he’d noticed right before they left how much his stomach was bothering him and then realized it was because he was so desperately nervous. He kept picturing the face of a little fairy princess seeing him for the first time, and how it would fall when she got a look at him. He hated himself for that, and he would be damned if anyone, especially the fairies, saw him being nervous. No, he would be as strong and intimidating as possible. There were undoubtedly several fairies other than just the king who objected to this match and he’d show them, as well as his own people, that he was a man who took what was rightfully his.

As his own dragonfly mount reached the trees near the Fairy Kingdom, he leapt up off its back and flew the rest of the way himself. He’d brought a large procession with him this time, and they hooted and hollered their approval as he approached the gates of the fairy castle. He even thought he heard Stuff shouting, “Go get you some, sire!” and he looked back sharply at her. He alighted near the castle entrance to see the Fairy King and all his court staring back at him. Goblins fell from the sky with loud thuds as they jumped from the backs of their rides.

It looked like the entire Fairy Kingdom had turned out for the event, and they were all dressed to the nines. Everything was so bright and colorful. It was already giving him a headache. There was an abundance of white, too, which didn’t help. It was not a color found anywhere in the dark forest and it hurt his eyes. In fact, the only thing that made him feel slightly less nauseous was the color of the dress a fairy girl was wearing to the king’s right. It was a rich, dark aubergine, and he focused his eyes on it to keep from squinting.

He looked at the king and realized that he hadn’t actually said anything to him yet, which was well enough because his goblin horde were drowning out any sound he would have made with their enthusiastic cheering. All of the fairies looked appalled and shocked by their vulgar display. For a change, instead of screaming at them to shut up, he banged his staff on the ground loudly two times, and they dutifully quieted down.

The Fairy King was the first to speak. “Welcome, Bog King,” he said with a nod of his head. He was smiling a smile that did not reach his eyes, as were all of the fairy court that Bog could see.

“We meet again, Fairy King,” he replied gruffly. He knew that his own face looked as displeased as he felt, and he saw no reason to pretend otherwise. 

He glanced around in silence at the garishly-adorned assembly before him. No one would look at him directly, but he saw a sea of painfully tight smiles wherever he looked. He suddenly caught the eye of the girl in aubergine. Unlike the others, she looked quite dour, and he noticed how oddly dressed she was for the occasion. Her dress was too somber/slutty for a royal wedding, and  _her_ tight expression was clearly unhappy. Also unlike the others, she was looking straight at him. Glaring, really. She was on the arm of that overly-polished soldier, Roland, and Bog realized who she was before the Fairy King spoke.

“Ah, Bog King, may I present my oldest child and heir, Princess Marianne?” The princess gave him the briefest of curtsies and continued looking disgusted by his mere presence. He gave her as much notice as she deserved.

“And her fiance, the Captain of the Guard, Roland,” the king said, gesturing to the soldier, who grinned his arrogant grin and bowed, saying, “Yer majesty.” He wrinkled his nose and looked perturbed at having to give deference to a goblin, though.

“Very well, no need to introduce the whole family,” Bog said. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?” The king and his oldest daughter looked offended, and in that moment his mother decided to chime in.

“Ahem, you’ll have to excuse my son. He’s not used to these extravagant affairs,” she said as she pushed through the crowd of goblins. Everyone was quite stunned by her appearance. She nudged him with her elbow and said, “Introduce me.”

He sighed. “May I present my  _mother_ ,” he said, as if the word were made of exasperation. “Or the Queen Mother Griselda, if she prefers.”

“I do,” she said smugly, then she offered her hand to the king and said,“Charmed, I’m sure!” The king, to his credit, bowed down and gave it a kiss.

“You look lovely, your highness,” he said, and took her arm in his. “And now, Bog King, since you’re so eager to meet her, let me present my youngest daughter, Dawn.” 

A crowd of female fairies that were gathered to the side parted to reveal a pretty fairy girl with blonde hair and enormous, blue eyes. She was exquisitely dressed in an ornate wedding gown made of white flower petals. Like his mother, she wore flowers on either side of her head, but these were pale pink and placed expertly in her hair. “Greetings, your majesty,” she said brightly, and curtsied low. She was smiling cheerfully and holding a bouquet, which she offered to him.

In other words, she was his worst nightmare. He accepted the bouquet between two of his long fingers as if it were a bomb about to explode. He looked at it briefly and then fobbed it off on his mother, who sighed contentedly and inhaled the blooms. “Oh my!” his mother said in awe. “Isn’t she the prettiest thing? Ahem. Bog? Isn’t she just the sweetest thing you ever saw?” She nudged him again.

“Without a doubt,” he replied with all the enthusiasm of a man about to face the gallows. Good lord, she really was barely more than a child. She was smiling so hugely and kept staring at him with those wide, saucer eyes. She didn’t let her face fall, but she shivered with nervous energy and was clearly frightened out of her wits. It made him feel quite sick. “Greetings, princess,” he said and gave her the courtesy of a deep bow. She deserved it, he supposed, considering what she was in for.

“Well, now that’s out of the way, we should be going,” he said, trying to get this painful affair over with as quickly as possible. There were audible gasps from the crowd.

“B-but, we have a huge wedding feast planned, your highness!” the Fairy King objected. “Please, we’ve been preparing for weeks.”

His eldest daughter was alarmed. “You can’t just take her and leave without letting us say goodbye,” she protested, and then added with great reluctance, “…your majesty.”

“Oh, yes, please,” Dawn entreated him. “We can’t get married without a proper rehearsal dinner!”

“Why, we’d be delighted,” his mother enthusiastically agreed. “Wouldn’t we, Bog?” His cue to blatantly lie. He growled and shook his shoulder scales in frustrated annoyance, and then miserably gave in.

“Fine,” he sulked, and turned to follow the king, but found that his little bride-to-be had leapt forward and attached herself to him.

“Shall we, my king?” she said coquettishly. He looked at her in surprise, as if a giant leech had suddenly appeared on his arm, but he just grunted and let her lead him to the long table in the castle hall.

Dinner was even worse than meeting the family, if that could be believed. The food provided by the fairies was pretty much inedible, but he could see that the kitchens had at least attempted to make it look appealing by adding slime and bits of dark roots and fungi as garnish. He picked around his plate to find anything that wouldn’t make him throw up later. The rest of the goblins didn’t care if they got ill or not and were scarfing and fighting over as much food as they could grab. Some of them were breaking into the barrels of fairy ale and trying to drown themselves in it. The two kingdoms were separated on either side of the table for good reason. The fairies ate in appalled silence.

“Oh, dear. Food not to your liking?” he heard a voice from across the table say. The king’s stuck-up heir was studying him again, but at least this time she looked amused.

“Well, we’re more meat-eaters where I come from, princess,” he replied. “Too bad you couldn’t garnish this flowery fare with a few chunks of elf,” he joked with a dark smirk. Several of the fairy people had to put their forks down and push their plates away. The eldest princess, however, just gave him a revolted look and took a big bite off her plate.

“That’s too bad,” she said. “Seems like you and Dawn will have some fundamental incompatibility issues. Maybe we should talk about that.”

“Oh, I know we will,” he said indifferently. “But there’s nothing to be done about that. You can send over some flower nectar and rose petal salads if she doesn’t like our diet.”

“Why isn’t there something to be done about it?” she asked. He looked directly at her and could see from the challenge in her eyes that she was going to create a problem. Time to nip that in the bud.

“Because I say so,” he said in a deep, rumbling voice, glowering right back at her.

“But you don’t want this any more than we do,” she said, staring back harder. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she mirrored him.

“Marianne,” her father tensely warned her.

“Oh you two are really going to have to try and learn to get along,” Princess Dawn said with a laugh, as if this were the most casual family dinner of her life. “Ignore Marianne, Boggy. She’s just irritated now that I’m going to get to be a queen, too.”

 _Boggy_? Had she just called him  _Boggy_?

“It’s ‘BOG KING’,” he said with a bit more force than he needed to.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said with a nervous giggle. “I just thought that sounded like a cute nickname. Cause, ya know, you seem like the kind of person who could really use one.”

“Don’t yell at my sister,” Princess Marianne said in a firm, angry voice. Her eyes were amber daggers. His muscles tensed, getting ready for a fight, which was ridiculous in this situation, but he was a creature of instinct when challenged. Several of the goblins went quiet, sensing the intensifying shift of his mood. Eyebrows were raised all across the table.

“Marianne!” the youngest princess chided her sister. “Be nice to my fiance. Seriously. We’re all going to be family now and I want you to be welcome in our home, so don’t lose your temper and screw it up, please.”

“Dawn, please stop,” Marianne said. “Stop pretending you’re okay with this. You’re scaring my sister half to death, you realize that, don’t you?” she said to Bog. “Can’t you at least try to be polite?” Everyone was silent now.

“Fine words coming from the most snotty, conceited princess I’ve ever met,” he said, putting some food in his mouth just so she could see him eating with his mouth wide open. “I’m the bloody Bog King, and you can expect no grand manners or pleasantness from me.” Several goblins shouted their approval at this remark.

“Don’t let him bother you, sweetie,” his mother said to Dawn, butting in. “You know why he hates being called ‘Boggy’?”

“ _Mother_ …” he growled.

“All Bog Kings only have one name, which is ‘Bog King’, obviously,” she continued, “so it gets confusing when there’s a Bog-King-to-be around. Back in the old days, they’d call them ‘Bog the Younger’ or ‘Bog the Eighth’ or whatever, but the numbers got too high, of course, so eventually it was just ‘Bog Jr.’ or something like that. With this one it was ‘Boggy’, or ‘Boggy Woggy’, as some of the kids used to call him. Lemme tell ya, he had to beat up a lot of people over a lot of years before he lived that one down. Me, I thought it was cute, which is why I called him that in the first place. Just look at that punim!” She gazed at her son adoringly.

Bog was bright red and in danger of being terminally embarrassed, but he played it off as rage. He slammed the table and hollered,“Mother, if you don’t shut up right now I will have your mouth permanently sewn shut!”

“Well, that’s a fine way to speak to your own mother!” she said, dramatically wounded. “All I can say is, you can’t get that love potion made fast enough. Your mood could definitely use some improving.”

Great. It was out there, now. From his own mother, even. Now he’d have to deliver the final, crushing blow in front of everyone. He looked down at his plate and said simply, “There isn’t going to be any love potion.”

“What?” his mother exclaimed, and she wasn’t the only one. The eldest princess said it almost as loudly as his mother did.

“I have decreed that there will be no love in the Dark Forest, and I have not changed my mind on that issue,” he said. “The ban on the potion stands. We’ll make do without it.”

“Oh,” Dawn said, and appeared disconcerted for the first time. She had to look away from everyone. Her father clasped her hand to comfort her and shot Bog a resentful glare.

“But that makes no sense if you want to get married!” Marianne protested hotly. “How can you demand a bride from us and then refuse to love her, or at least give her the comfort of loving you?” She looked fit to murder someone. “Even if the only way to make her love you is to force her into it,” she added cuttingly.

 _Because the potion wouldn’t work on her_ , he thought,  _And I’ll be damned before I let myself be the only one in love again, especially with a sodding fairy._  Instead, he said flatly, “You’ll find, princess, that once I make my mind up about something, I never change it.”

“So you’re resigning yourself, and her, to being miserable?” she said, exasperated. “You can’t give her any hope at all of being happy?”

“None,” he replied. “But she will, at least, be a queen, which she seems to enjoy the thought of. She’ll want for nothing. Nothing that the Dark Forest can provide, in any case.” He stood up. “And with that unpleasantness out of the way, we’ll take our leave.” He walked away from the table, and his people followed. He stood near the door. “My lady?” he said, holding his hand out to his bride.

“Um, okay,” Princess Dawn said. She needed help from her father to stand but, once up, she walked bravely toward him.

In a panic, the Fairy King tried to stall him. “Wait! Bog, we have to get her things ready. We have a concert and a whole procession planned.”

“I think we should stop dragging this out and just rip the bandage off at this point, don’t you?” Bog said dismissively. “This evening has been painful enough.”

The little princess tried her best not to look terrified and timidly reached for his hand.

“DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH MY SISTER, YOU SCALY-BACKED COCKROACH,” Princess Marianne roared. She was standing only a few feet away from them. He could tell from her aggressive stance, she was itching for that fight now.

For the first time that day, he smiled.


End file.
